Perhaps
by Tavarilyn
Summary: A wellspun tale should have a wellwrapped ending unless the author plans on turning a trilogy into a series. This story is intended to provide closure to those, like myself, who felt Sonea never got to say goodbye properly...
1. Chapter 1, A Weight Lifted

Four walls of unadorned grey stone pressed in on Sonea's conscious mind, making her acutely aware of the drab ceiling above and the plush carpet below that completed her personal cage. Outside a chill, winter storm raged, a pale echo of the turmoil of her inner self. For one, bleak moment, she longed to be out in the driving rain in hope that she might wash herself clear of the taint, the guilt that plagued her. But no, she was as much a prisoner here as the guilty sadness that had taken permanent residence in her heart.

Leaning her forehead against the glass of the large window, her slow exhales and inhales ghosted rings of fog on the pane as rivulets of water marred her pale reflection. They had moved Sonea from Akkarin's quarters because she was no longer the High Lord's novice, she knew, but also to help her move past her grief. Instead she'd been given a view of the grounds where she could look out to the trees rather than the carnage on the other side of the building. They had meant well, which helped some, but all she could see were the ghosts that haunted her still. One in particular. _Dark hair... dark eyes... pale skin... hands that could caress softly or wring the life from something... and a deathly wound where only life should be..._ Squeezing her eyes tight against the tears that threatened her at every turn, lurking just underneath her carefully veiled expression, Sonea moved away from the window, choking back a sob in time to save herself from grief.

Her eyes opened to the wan light of the silvery globe she kept to the side of her desk and the sight of a few of her possessions. On the dresser was the silver brush from her early days with Rothen as her guardian and the books he'd given her as she was learning to read in preparation for her entrance to the Guild. A soft, sad smile found its way to her lips then, as memories of that time when she had seemed so unhappy broke momentarily through her other thoughts. Oh, but had she known what awaited her, would she have still joined the Guild, Sonea mused, though she already knew the answer, had known the answer for several months. She would never have been content to go back and become a "naive" dwell. Her smile vanished as her eyes took in the contents of her desk and she made her feet move her to them.

A single wooden box and a game board lay there, simple and worn. As she had forced her feet to move, she forced her hands to open the box and remove the game pieces she knew were inside. No one had questioned when she asked to be alone, allowing none but Dorrien as her escort. Even Dorrien had politely not inquired about the hiding hole in the stone by the spring, nor about the contents she had removed from it. He had silently escorted her back to her room and left her to her whims. When no one was looking, she had exercised her long-unused thieving skills to creep out to Akkarin and Lorlen's graves, marked out in honor among the rest of the buried fallen and had dug a simple hole in each grave, leaving behind a white piece for Lorlen and a black piece for Akkarin. Thinking back to that night, she swallowed down the sob that was clawing its way out and set up what was left of the set, trying to keep from knocking down the pieces as her hands shook.

Many days and nights had passed like this, with her wandering her room, unable to sleep, riffling through her memories of days now gone. Though she had tried to fill her life full to bursting, tried to prevent herself from seeing the battle over and over again, tried to find peace in sleeping, Sonea found rest was often beyond her. There was not enough in the whole Guild or all of Imardin that could keep her busy enough to forget her pain forever, though the dwell hospital and the almost-constant companionship of Dorrien, Rothen and Takan were making life bearable.

Classes had begun again, continued out of necessity for the normal, but Sonea had found she was more alone now for all the well-wishing and constant respectful silences. Several times in the last few months, she caught herself longing for the pranks of Regin and his recruits from those first years of her training but Regin had kept an overly-respectful distance from her at all times, casting covert glances at her but never approaching. It was becoming too much to bear, everyone knowing that she and only she was their first and last line of defense should the Sachakans _en masse_ or even one Ichani get a bright idea and come hunting.

Sonea shuddered, recalling with vivid detail the horrors the Ichani had visited on her people. _Her people._ Wouldn't Rothen be proud? She had finally accepted that the Guild was a necessary part of Imardin, and at such a cost. At night, when she lay in bed, praying for sleep, willing her body to unconsciousness because they refused to allow her any sleeping aids, she could still hear the voices, shouting in her head for her to save them. They haunted her dreams, hounded her in the hallways, the voices that never stopped and the one voice that shouted above them all, called to her, tried to tell her to listen to it... Sonea wanted that one to go away the most. Perhaps then she could begin to forget and recover.

Sinking into the chair at her desk, she stared numbly at the set in front of her and the near-empty box behind it. Sonea knew this ritual all too well, knew what else was laying in the box. Carefully, shielding herself so tight that neither emotion nor magic nor thoughts might stray, she reached a delicate hand to the lid and lifted it, exposing the empty receptacle, lined with cheap brown cloth. But this was no surprise to Sonea who had discovered the secret compartment shortly after bringing the box back to her room.

While setting up the pieces one day, she'd accidently knocked what she'd thought was the empty box to the floor but a small clink had alerted her otherwise. Inside, she'd discovered a false bottom with a compartment housing three broken trinkets of some kind, their significance lost to the ages. Putting them aside now, Sonea reached into the hidden compartment and withdrew two items, scarcely taking a breath.

A glittering knife and three rings, one silver and two gold, with identical gems like rubies lay in the palm of her hand. Several of such knives had been left in Takan's care since he had the most intimate knowledge of black magic practices without actually knowing the rituals and he was not a magician nor would he ever be. One had been Kariko's and others had belonged to certain of the other Ichani, but Takan had passed Akkarin's knife to Sonea without telling anyone else. Somehow, that act had touched her more than any other phrase or gift or token she had received, that he trusted her with such a weapon, when the rest of the Guild did not. She put it to the side, not wanting to think about it right now, and laid out the rings.

The first ring, the silver band, was Lorlen's ring. Akkarin had removed it from him when Lorlen was killed in the Invasion and she had taken it from Akkarin, along with his golden ring, as Akkarin, dead beyond repair, lay on the lawn before the University. It had pained her to remove them, but something forced her hand into the natural rhythms of picking as smoothly as any Thief and had concealed them without anyone the wiser. The last ring was hers that she had made as Akkarin had made one for her. Her ring was the only ring of the three still active.

Running a hesitant finger over the "gem", she felt a catch in her throat. He had never worn it. Sonea knew why he hadn't worn it now, though she cursed herself every day for not realizing the truth of it then. It hadn't been because of some silly notion of love. Akkarin had loved her. He could not have denied that when his mind spoke it so clearly, even in those few glimpses. No, he hadn't wanted her to see his ultimate plan, that he would exhaust himself utterly to save her and the Guild and Imardin in one final act of necessity.

Grabbing the rings, she held them tight to her breast and could withstand the tears no longer. Once the floodgates had opened, her grief poured through, staining the front of her brown robes with countless tears. And through it all, the voices in Sonea's head chattered and clamored and yelled and shouted for her to save them, save them, save them. And one voice rose above them, calling out to her to save him, help him, the voice that haunted her in class, waking or sleeping, until she wasn't sure if she was hearing it or imagining it. She willed him to stop with all her might, the rings biting into her hands along with her fingernails, but she didn't care. Her pain would never be enough, could never be enough to erase all the guilt that she just hadn't had enough power to save them all.

_Sonea..._

Throat raw from crying, fingers slippery with tears, she looked up from her desk, gaze locking on the door. "Hello?" she sniffed, "Takan, is that you?" Wiping her eyes with the arm of her robe, she cradled the rings in her hand a bit more gently and made her way to the door, willing it to open a crack. Peeking out, she found no one in the hallway near enough to be waiting at her door. A few magician's glanced in her direction, saw her red, puffy eyes and quickly looked away. Suddenly angry, she slammed the door and sat down at her desk. "How dare they..." she began, voice husky with grief.

_Sonea... Sonea..._

Fear replaced her anger as she considered the four walls of her room, wondering now if she had finally lost all sense of reason. Hugging her arms to her and, with them, the rings in her hand in a tight, sweaty wad of metal, she called out against her better judgment, "Hello?" A great lump rose in her throat as she jumped up, knocking over her chair as she quickly pressed herself back toward the wall. As her back met the smooth stone surface, she felt the chill through her robes and shivered. Outside, the storm had ceased and the din inside her head was, for once, blessed absent. Even still, her eyes tracked around the small room, looking for who or what was calling her name.

_Sonea... love..._

At that, Sonea jumped, dropping the rings from her hands onto the carpet. "No, no, it... it cannot be..." The words felt so small compared to the confusion of feelings pelting her. Part of her leapt with joy, but fear held her in place, plastered to the wall for several long minutes with the rings fallen to the floor. A sudden knock on the door jarred her to the reality of her situation and, when no other mysterious voices called her name, she called out shakily, "Yes... wh...who is it?"

"My lady, it is Takan. You were late for our meal so I had thought to come find you." His voice was muffled through the door, but she could hear him well enough, knew his accent. It was indeed Takan. "Is everything all right, my lady?"

Gulping down one last lump, she quickly stooped to pick up the three rings and stowed them, along with the knife into the hidden compartment in the box. "I... I'm fine Takan... one moment..." Sonea smoothed her robes, suddenly aware of how silly she must look, tear-stained, puffy-eyed and jumping at nothing. Closing the box, she moved to the door and opened it with a mere thought. "I'm ready. My apologies for keeping you waiting, Takan," she replied softly, watching Takan's eyes slightly widen at her appearance. "Shall we go?"

Turning to lock the door, she gave her room one last cursory glance and allowed the globe light to wink out of existance. A sigh escaped from her lips, heralding the return of her wistful sadness. Yet, for the first time in months, Sonea dared to feel a small shred of hope. Perhaps at dinner she could ask Takan whether he had been hearing voices or if this was common in Sachaka. Perhaps this was normal for black magicians. There was so much she didn't know yet, she thought as they made their way to Takan's quarters for their meal. So much she should know... so little time... She steeled her resolve and hoped her sanity would hold out.

Perhaps all was not lost.


	2. Chapter 2, Unusual Company

With the storm having receded, the silvery eye of the moon shone clearly down through a break in the clouds, illuminating the Guild grounds with a light sheen. Light from various windows provided additional illumination, casting rectangles of warm, yellow light at odd intervals along the lawns and pathways near the buildings, particularly those housing the magicians and novices. From one of the central exits to the Magician's Quarters, a silent duo emerged into the night, casually avoiding contact with others out wandering the grounds with practiced ease.

Having immediately shielded both she and Takan as soon as the pair had left, Sonea felt none of the chill that some of the winter novices were clearly experiencing. Pairs and trios of brown-robed figures huddled together, shivering and scurrying along the pathways toward the residences and foodhall. A quick hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Sonea's lips as she briefly reminisced on her previous life as a novice. Her robes were the same as theirs, she was nearly as small as they, though several years their senior in age and classes, yet none would ever mistake her for a novice. Gone was her skittish demeanor, her boyish looks and boorish, slum-dweller attitude. Time and trouble had honed her skills as a blademaster would work his finest pieces. No, she was merely a novice in name only. Her heart carried the weight of the guild within it.

Furtively, Sonea stole quick glances at her silent companion as they made their way away from the main part of the guild along a partly tree-covered path. Her destination was too familiar and threatened her with more tears so she contemplated Takan's steady strides and centered mannerisms. In the past few months, he had grieved as surely as she and yet he bore no outside signs of it. Anger kindled in her breast at her weakness, though she scarcely showed that side of her to anyone. If Takan could restrain his sadness and guilt, why couldn't she? But as she had asked herself that many times, the answer had long ago presented itself to her. Takan had respected Akkarin, had perhaps even worshipped and revered him, but Takan had not loved Akkarin nor the opposite. Their bond had been a friendship and a deep one at that, yet the servant and master relationship had prevented the love that equals might share. Her anger fizzled, as it always did at that conclusion, just as they reached the grey building amidst the trees where she had spent many angry months during what now felt like a lifetime ago.

The High Lord's residence was occupied by Lord Balkan who had been elected to the position after the Invasion, but he had wisely elected to keep Takan close as an advisor on the Ichani. Takan lived in the same rooms he had since coming to Kyralia and continued to perform his duties as servant, which kept him cooking and allowed him to bring Sonea along for dinner. She visited him nightly, but because she required an escort at all times, Takan always came to receive her in person at her room. _Next they'll likely suggest I have an escort in the bath as well! Couldn't have me draining the laundry servants and running amok about the grounds bedecked solely in towels..._ Surpressing an ill-timed chuckle, she waited for Takan to enter the residence and ushered herself inside, following close behind.

As always, the interior of Balkan's choosing surprised her greatly. Gone were the heavy pile carpets and plush chairs of the former occupant, replaced by practical objects that served the same function. Now well-lit, Sonea could see the unadorned stone walls that had once held paintings and shelves of books. No longer the ominous den of a lurking beast, it had lost most of its former "charm". Can't have it both ways...she thought, knowing that Akkarin's furnishings would only have set her to tears again. No, it was better this way, she concluded while following Takan to dinner.

Delicious aromas tickled her nostrils before she even made it to the room, but familiar voices ahead alerted her to the fact that they had company for dinner. Something inside of her crumpled at not being able to catch Takan alone, but she steeled her resolve for the second time that night and strode into the room behind the servant. High Lord Balkan and Administrator Osen were seated at one end of the sumptiously laden table. As Sonea entered behind Takan, an extremely forced silence stilled the conversation to a complete halt.

"High Lord, Administrator..." Sonea greeted with a bow to each man before allowing Takan to seat her at the farther end of the table in her usual place. "Good of you to join us for dinner." Swallowing down several comments that she deemed inappropriate, she finally settled on adding, "I trust you are enjoying Takan's exceptional abilities."

"Hello Sonea," began Osen with a gentle smile, followed by a good throat-clearing from Balkan. "Yes, excellent. I never did quite believe Akkarin," his mouth stumbled over the name, but he recovered quickly enough, "When he praised Takan's skills. Should get him to see to our kitchens..."

Sonea's brow furrowed then smoothed at the comment. "All respect intended High Lord but Takan is no ordinary servant." The words came out harsher than she had intended, but she found that she felt not at all sorry for them.

"Obviously not," replied Balkan, sparing Takan a glance where he waited to the side of the room. He would not seat himself until their guests had left. Gaze returning to Sonea, Balkan crossed his hands behind his plate, watching as she helped several courses onto her plate. "Sonea..."

At the sound of her name, Sonea's grip tightened on the ladel in her hand and she paused, utensil mid-sweep from the serving bowl to her plate. Juices threatened to spill from the ladel to the table, but she held the object with expert balance. "Yes, High Lord?" Returning a distant politeness to her tone, she continued serving herself. Slowly.

"Enough of this, Sonea. The King and indeed the Guild grows worried as each day passes," Balkan began again, interjecting gruffly into the thick silence. With a quick glance at Osen, who shrugged imperceptibly, the High Lord added, "I don't think you understand how worried. We have given you the time, time to grieve, time to recover, time to set up your hospital and to resume your classes..." Lifting a wine glass to his lips, he regarded her over his sip of the dark liquid, taking extra care not to spill on his pristine, white robes. "You must at least begin to teach the mind-reading skill." Nothing about the words spoke of a question.

Laying her hands carefully on either side of her plate, Sonea shoved her grief, frustration and anger down into the farthest corner of her self that she could find, exhaling out a single, deep breath. When she finally had the nerve to confront her visitors again, she nodded. "I will give you that..." Pausing at the twin exhales from across the table, she smiled in a way that was neither happy nor kind, "If..."

"If what?" Balkan snapped, but Osen laid a hand on the High Lord's shoulder. "Sonea," he offered her a concilatory smile, "Please, understand our position. The Houses come to us, blaming us for the recent "failure", particularly those who returned to Imardin to find their houses in ruins! The Thieves are taking care of the dwells at the moment, but we fear they might begin to sense the panic in the Inner Circle and..." he paused, clearly at a loss for words, then finished, "They know you and respect you. Sonea, you must give us any aide you can, for the sake of Imardin as a whole. Please." Osen's clear eyes pleaded with her across the table, entreating her to see what they thought she couldn't see.

"So..." she began, allowing a small hint of venom to creep into her voice. "You both are of the mind that because I've been grief-stricken, that I haven't a clue about the current state of Imardin?" Though her tone was low and her voice quiet, she knew they could hear her across the table, saw them both sit back at the dull glare in her dark eyes. "I know exactly the state of Imardin. Better than I should think both of you do, at the moment. I, not you, High Lord and Administrator, am down there with the Healers. I have done the work no other would stoop to. Until now." She knew that she should not speak thus, knew she would regret it later, but for the moment, her heart would not let her stop until she had spoke her complete peace. Continuing, her voice caught strength. "My Lords, I am afraid you are vastly mistaken if you assumed me some delicate flower, crumbling at the first strain of heat or cold. No, you have it wrong indeed. And did you even bother to let me state my condition to helping you further? Or did you just expect... nay, practically demand my cooperation?" Standing from her seat, she regarded the two across the table from her as her fingers dug into the tabletop where she was gripping it hard enough to leave marks.

Both Balkan and Osen were a conflicting display of emotions. Anger, guilt, grief, shame, panic... all of these crossed the faces of the two seated across from Sonea. At last, Osen looked to Balkan, who's mouth was working but no words would come and finally asked, in a small voice, "What can we give you that we have not already, Sonea? We cannot be seen to give you favors, even if you share a...special status in the Guild." His voice, though meek, still held that entreaty of earlier.

"Indeed," spoke the High Lord, eyes narrowing.

Startled by the sudden, singular statement, Sonea smiled weakly, her cheeks coloring light pink. "Privacy," she said, holding up a hand to forstall the response she knew would come, "Only on the Guild grounds. Please... I cannot be a model for the Guild if anyone whom I'm to train thinks they will be giving up total personal freedom. If... if you cannot give me an answer now, I beg you to consider it?" Freeing her hands from the table, she clasped them in front of her and sat down, watching the two most influential magicians in all of Kyralia with hopeful eyes. She thought she caught Takan smile out of the corner of her eye, but when she glanced his way, his features were unreadable.

Rising together, Osen a second after Balkan, the High Lord and Administrator looked down upon Sonea before Balkan excused himself from the room, leaving Osen behind. As he was leaving, he offered Sonea a quick smile in assurance. "We will do what we can, Sonea. You have my promise. Please remember that we are short on all things at the moment, but especially time. I will send for you when we've made a decision." He took a step toward the door before turning to Takan with a much larger smile. "Thank you again for the invitation and the meal, sir, I look forward to it again some time in the future..." and with that he was gone.

Sonea let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and turned on Takan, "Invitation?" Her eyebrows felt like they wanted to detach themselves from her forehead.

Takan turned to regard her with what she was coming to know as his "thinking look" and shrugged. "They have known we take our dinners together for some time. Balkan especially has been inquiring about an invitation. I feared he would show up unannounced, so I extended him an invitation." A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he moved to clear the recently-vacated places at the table. "I believe you have given them much to consider."

Leaning against the high back of the chair, Sonea tried to find a comfortable position for her head and neck, a way to relieve the growing tightness that constantly plagued her when she was tense. "I understand Takan, I'm sorry. And yes, they have already had much to consider, I merely gave them extra incentive." Glancing up at him, she shook her head. "I have yet to convince them I'm trustworthy, haven't I?" She felt pale in the lamplight, an exposed spectre of her former self.

Balancing both plates, Takan pursed his lips before answering. "It does not look good from their side to have someone actively defy their Guild rules. Even for the sake of saving that which the rules supposedly protect. In time, they will see. How much time..." he shrugged lightly, letting the words drift and stared out toward the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

In the dim light of the lamps, set the way that Takan preferred to take his meals, Sonea realized that he was right. Takan was very often right, in her opinion. Of course, they all needed time but how much time was certainly the question. Thinking back to the incident in her rooms previously in the evening, Sonea couldn't help but think her time was running out faster than the rest. Some nagging suspicion at the back of her mind said that the grains of sand in some hourglass somewhere were quickly falling and she was powerless to stop them. She had no idea what would happen when they all ran out, but it was clear it would hardly be anything good.

Raising a bite of food to her lips for the first time since arriving, she took a moment to savor the sweet undercurrent of _papea_ that Takan was favoring lately in his meals. It complemented the _reber_ meat excellently, considering the meat had been cut into thin slices and served with _brasi_ and _crots_. The meal seemed especially excellent tonight, but perhaps that had been on account of their guests. While musing over this, Sonea noted Takan's return with an empty plate. Tonight she would have to confront him about the voices. If she didn't, she might loose her nerve and never ask again and she knew she had to ask. Her feelings of dread seemed very much tied to that... somehow.

Watching Takan help himself, she decided she could wait until the desert course, then ask her questions. She'd been waiting months for her grief to lessen and it hadn't. She'd been waiting all evening for her sanity to be tested and it hadn't. Hopefully, he would provide her with more answers than questions. If not, she might have to ask another favor of High Lord Balkan that he definitely would not like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.


	3. Chapter 3, Answers and Questions

Thick silence hung over the Guild as it slumbered, wrapped in the comfortable dark of a moonlit night. Since the thunderstorm from the early evening had peetered out, chased away by hearty winds blowing in from the north, the sky was mostly clear but dappled with a few dark cloud shapes, accented with pale illumination. Already well past the hour when servants retired, stalwart magicians cleaned up their personal experiments and the most alert of guards drifted into a lull, a single room on the eastern side of the magician's residence of the Guild glowed with a scintillating rainbow of everchanging hues.

Laying on the downy blankets covering her bed, Sonea's eyes bored holes in the grey ceiling several feet above her head. Having encapsulated the globe hovering near her desk in a translucent shield of color, the light had changed from her standard silver to whatever color she imposed upon the shield. Currently, it had shifted from yellow to red but she morphed the red into orange at the last second and rolled over to consider the box of game pieces kept perpetually on her desk. The box was as she'd left it prior to dinner with Takan and their unexpected company, the High Lord and Administrator. Every piece was in its place on the board, one missing from each side. Next to the board sat three rings, their red glass "gems" reflecting hazy prisms under the light of Sonea's globe.

_Dinner never felt like such a chore as it did tonight_, she reflected, rolling over to stare out her window at the trees in the gardens outside. Only hours ago she had been at the other end of that garden in the High Lord's residence, challenging the two most influential magicians in all of Kyralia over policies that directly affected her and, truthfully, anyone else in Imardin. Since that fateful day months ago when she and Akkarin had defeated the Ichani at the foot of the University steps, Sonea had been bound to the borders of the city, unable to cross beyond them and always under the watchful eye of an escort. She understood the necessity of the escort outside of the Guild gates. It was a way to pacify the population that she would pose no threat to the people in the same way a rogue magician had done centuries ago when the Guild was founded. What upset her most was that the Guild had shown not to trust her within the grounds, forcing an escort on her at all times. Granted, they let her choose her escorts, but she'd soon discovered that she could only spend so much time alone in her room before she desired another place to think by herself. Yet she had none.

Letting out a dissatisfied grunt, Sonea flipped from her side to her stomach, supporting her head with her hands. Sparing a glance for the rings at her desk, her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd had with Takan over desert after Balkan and Osen had left the dinner table. He had proven to be a wonderful source of information yet there were things he could not answer or could only say were rumors or even possibly lies. The one thing that had reassured her was a story that Takan had told her from his time as a slave of Dakova. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear Takan repeating the story to her again...

_"Understand, my lady, that I tell you this because I trusted the one who told me. Litan seemed to be a good man who did not deserve his fate, but I will give you his story and let you judge... _

_Litan was taken from his parents when he was a young boy. His magic potential was unlike any that Illiova had ever seen. When Illiova accidently discovered Litan fetching water from a spring by coaxing it up from the well without a bucket, she did not hesitate to take him. Litan never knew what happened to his family, but he was sure Illiova would not have left his mother and father alive, since they had been magicians themselves. Litan had been told to keep his powers a secret but he was a small boy and their only child and it made his chores easier. _

_Illiova was not a mother and had no knowledge of children, but she knew that a magician child living in the wastes was an amazing find. She took Litan back to her camp and kept him separated from her other slaves for several days. She told him that each man or woman she kept was evil and that she was keeping them to make sure they never harmed anyone again. That was why she took their power, to keep them powerless and to make sure she was strong enough to hold them against their will. Litan, having only eight summers at the time, believed her to be telling him the truth. He offered her his help and she hugged him to her, telling him that he could best help her by never talking to her prisoners for they were all liars and thieves. He was to watch them and guard her. In return, she would teach him more useful 'tricks' he could do with his powers. _

_Litan soon grew very powerful under Illiova's tuteledge. He had her knowledge and was allowed to replenish his power from her slaves. As he aged, he realized that Illiova was not as old as she had first appeared and he began to grow attached to her in a way that confused him. Later he would say he loved her, though he never did confess this to her. Many years later, Illiova was caught in a conflict with another Ichani and she destroyed him easily, taking his slaves and his power. It was then that Litan realized exactly what Illiova was. She was one of the evil magicians that his mother had told him stories about as a child! He repudiated her as she returned from battle triumphant, cursed her for deceiving him and attacked her before she could full defend herself. _

_They battled quickly and fiercely but Litan had drained all of Illiova's slaves near to death as she was returning, with the promise that Litan would free them as soon as their captor was dead. Litan slew Illiova and took her power out of instinct, feeling her essence flow through him. When the euphoria of her immense power flow died out in him, Litan looked down upon his beloved, lifeless on the ground, dead at his hands, and began to weep for what he'd done. He grew angry with himself for judging too hastily and tried to pour his power back into Illiova's dead body but found that while he could get the power to go in and store there, the moment he removed his hands from her, the power would seep back out again. _

_For several hours, he lay atop her, crying. Around them, the slaves he had drained to take Illiova's life began to call out to him for the help he had promised. Finally, he roused himself enough to fulfill his promise and, one by one, he brought the slaves back from death's door, filling them with every last shread of power he had until he was nearly dead himself. They left him there to die at his request... _

_And he would have died if Dakova had not found him and dragged him back to his camp where he bound Litan's hands and feet, left him in a tent of his own and put me in charge of him. I tried to offer my power to Litan as Dakova had ordered, to nurse him to health, but he refused. Instead, he told me his story. I knew then that Dakova would not keep him, that Litan was too dangerous. He had killed an Ichani and Dakova must know this for Dakova read the mind of every slave he acquired. _

_I left Litan to sleep then, knowing what would surely happen to him and felt sorry for his plight when I heard shouting from his tent and ran back to see what was happening. Inside, Litan was staring up at the ceiling of the tent but his eyes were clearly not seeing. He was shouting names, over and over, his face full of fear. He shouted 'Leave me alone!' in between random nonsense but soon fell quiet except for a few whimpers. Afraid that Dakova would punish me for mistreating his captive, I shook Litan until he woke and confronted him about the shouting. A miserable sigh escaped him and he admitted to hearing voices. Not all the time, but when he was on the verge of sleep or asleep, sometimes he even thought he saw Illiova sitting next to him. Having never heard of this before, I could offer him nothing so I left again, unsure of what to do. _

_In the morning, I was informed that Dakova had killed Litan in the night and drained his powers. One of the other slaves had caught him shouting again, had said Litan had loosed his bonds and was wandering around the camp looking for his dead love. Rather than wait, Dakova had taken care of Litan then and there, worried that his 'illness' would spread to the rest of us... _

_...That is the story of Litan, my lady. I hope it has not disturbed you, but it was the first thing I thought of when you told me of your plight. Since Litan, I have heard of others with the same problem, but never came into contact with them. I was once told that to cure such ills you could make an 'appeal to Armje's judgement' but I never understood what that meant and dismissed such knowledge as a tale. I have heard of no deity named Armje, nor any person... I am sorry I could not be of more help to you."_

Opening her eyes again, Sonea dismissed the rainbow barrier from around her globe light, letting the silvery light free to cast its pale radiance around her meager room. Sitting up from the warmth of her bed, she rose and moved to her desk, one hand reaching out toward the black pieces of the board. Tracing the contours of the largest piece with her finger, she frowned. Takan's story had made her feel better only momentarily. She now knew that such things were at least somewhat common elsewhere, even if the only place that was true was Sachaka. Which meant they were likely tied into black, or higher, magic somehow. What she didn't know was the cause. Granted, it likely meant she was going insane, but if there was a reason behind why she was hearing voices, one in particular most of all, then she could get it to stop. Or continue and lead her to some other conclusion?

_But what would that be?_ she mused to herself, setting the black piece up straight again before moving to consider the three rings next to the board. First Sonea picked up the silver ring, then placed it on her thumb because it was too big to fit any other finger. Next, her gold ring that had never been worn went to her middle finger and, between the silver and first gold, she had a place for the third ring, the ring Akkarin had made for her. A hint of sadness broke through her curiosity, making her pause with the last ring above her index finger. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she jammed the last ring onto her finger between the others and extended her thoughts toward the rings. _What am I missing?_ she jabbed at the rings, mentally, holding her breath for some sign that would break through the silence and answer her curiosity.

Nothing. As she let out the breath she was holding and opened her eyes, she considered the rings on her outstretched fingers. The light they reflected back at her, winked in and out, mocking her.

Letting out a frustrated shout, Sonea clenched her fists and swept the pieces from her desk in one, fierce movement. "Stop givin' me rub!"

_Sonea..._

The voice, achingly familiar, resounded in her head. She stood from her desk, too upset to be frightened, and took a careful look around. "Hai! What d'you want? I'm tryin' hard to get it, I'm givin' it the best go I can... what else can I do?" Sonea pleaded with the silvery shadows.

_Sonea... Dannyl..._

Clenching her fist to her chest, her breath caught in her throat and she choked, coughing out her surprise. "Hai, Dannyl? Dannyl? What about Dannyl? He's right-sided an all, but..." she paused, realizing she'd slipped back into the language of dwells with surprising ease. She was worried, worried and talking to herself. Presumably talking to herself, anyway. What could it hurt to ask Dannyl for help after she'd already approached Takan. Certainly Dannyl wouldn't think... but no, he was in Elyne and she couldn't go to Elyne.

Sparing a glance at the ceiling, and one around the room for good measure, Sonea narrowed her eyes and added, cautiously, "You'd better not be gettin' me or Dannyl in some rub here, you get? I don't care if your done already or not. I'll get Cery to do you again, you understand!" Shaking her fist at the ceiling, she sighed and shook her head, looking down at her clenched hand. Somehow she knew they fit into the puzzle but she couldn't be seen wearing those rings outside her room. She couldn't even afford to be seen with them inside her room!

_Maybe a jeweler could..._ was her first thought but then a grin found its way to her lips for the first time in days. She was a magician, of course she didn't need a jeweler to help her. Sitting down again at her desk, apprehension warring with excitement in her heart, she focused her will on the metal surrounding each stone, melting it just so that the stones loosened from their gold and silver grips before plucking all three gems out and setting them gently on the desk. Discarding the useless pieces of metal into the false bottom of the game box, she opened her desk drawer and found what she was looking for - the necklace that Cery had given her just after the memorial service a few months ago. He'd told her it was meant to have stones but rather than presume to add something for her, he'd told her she could choose something fitting in time.

Smiling softly, Sonea half-wondered if Cery knew exactly what she might need such a piece for one day. Rather than speculate, she got to work setting the three red gems into their places and sat back to look at her work. Only one thing looked wrong, she realized. The Higher Magicians would easily recognize the red gems and ask her where she got them from. But she could fix that too. Taking the discarded pieces of metal back out of the box, she melted a small bit of the gold over each gem, making sure to cover the red color so that the glass gems would only poke through the back, touching her skin but not showing at all on the front. Testing the metal to be sure it had cooled, she put the necklace on and leaned over to pick up the silver brush from her dresser.

Even though her reflection was distorted by the brush's curved back, she saw herself smile with satisfaction. It felt right to be wearing the gems again, even if she wasn't sure how they fit into her predicament. Sonea wasn't even sure what her next step would be in all this, but if disembodied voices that sounded peculiarly like Akkarin's were directing her to ask Dannyl, then ask Dannyl she would. Placing her brush back and quickly cleaning up the mess she'd made of the game pieces and metal bits, Sonea felt light-hearted. Hopefully tomorrow would bring more pieces of the puzzle in place.

First, however, she needed sleep. Climbing into bed, she let the silvery light wink out as she stared up at the ceiling again, noting how the shadows swooped in on her room. When she had woken this morning, her life had been filled with despair and guilt. Laying down to sleep now, she finally had some answers to questions that had plagued her for weeks. And somewhere, she felt a part of her rejoicing that she might have some personal freedom along with her fledgling emotional freedom. Only one thing was certain, time was running out and all of this was happening for a reason. If only she knew what that reason was. As she drifted off to sleep, one thought kept floating in and out of her subconscious...

Perhaps Dannyl would give her the answers she needed.


	4. Chapter 4, Questions and Answers

Ch 4 - Questions and Answers

A brusk wind, abruptly summoned from the depths of winter, swept through the daytime silence of the Magician's Guild. Classes were in session and the grounds were deceptively empty, most choosing to be inside rather than outside even after the bells singnaled the end of lectures. Though Kyralia was the southernmost country on the continent, the weather still managed a few solid weeks of frightening chill. As weak sunlight filtered in through the window screens of his room, Dannyl wished not for the first time in days that he were back in Elyne, even if the weather was no less cold. At least there he had Tayend's ever-optimistic company.

Dannyl had retired to his bedroom several hours ago with a manuscript Errend had lent him for the journey, something involving a current dispute back in Elyne. He had soon discovered that, like the wind, he could find no place to settle comfortably. Suddenly frustrated, he gave up resituating himself on his chair and rolled the paper up, placing it back into its tube. He would peruse it later when his mind had less of those other thoughts currently plaguing him. And what thoughts they were.

A week before, he'd been at the Great Library, consulting Irand about a particular historical matter when Tayend had entered and excused them both into a side room. At first, Dannyl remembered with a chuckle, he'd been irritated that Tayend would so blithely interrupt his work as Ambassador, even if the Library was their oft-chosen, favorite retreat. Irand had long ago given them full run of the Library and both of them had taken to using it to its fullest extent. But Tayend had had no such personal retreat in mind. No, he had brought a message from another Dem, a Dem that Dannyl had hardly come into contact with since his last arrival in Elyne after the Invasion. Dem Agerralin.

The Dem had asked Tayend to set up a private meeting with Dannyl at his earliest convenience. Neither Tayend nor Dannyl had any idea what could have prompted Agerralin to seek out Dannyl, especially considering the recent execution of Dem Marane by the Guild for willfully attempting to learn magic outside of the Guild's domain. Curiosity roused, Dannyl had agreed to meet with the Dem at an establishment in Elyne but on arriving and being issued into the reserved room, he found himself opposite someone who looked vaguely familiar but was clearly not the Dem.

_Our apologies for this mild deception, Ambassador Dannyl,_ the man had said, _But I was given charge of this message and was told to deliver it to you within a certain number of months of the High Lord's death. I merely called in a favor with Agerralin to get you here._ In his hands, the messenger held out a tube to him. _You must open it, please. I will explain anything I am allowed._

Dannyl's heart raced as he remembered taking the tube to open it, unrolling the missive within.

_Dannyl - _

_If I am gone, then my messenger hopefully finds you well and the Guild intact.  
The Guild will soon have need of the knowledge you possess about 'higher'  
magic. You will find my copies of your work, along with another volume you  
must locate, in my personal library. They will not have been tampered with.  
See that this knowledge is not lost. When I return, we will have much to  
discuss. _

_Akkarin_

When he had finished reading, Dannyl had read it twice more. The handwriting was not Akkarin's, but everything about the message spoke of Akkarin. No one other than Lorlen and Rothen had known about Dannyl's extensive quest for ancient magical practices, that he had retraced Akkarin's steps through the mountains of Elyne and beyond. No, the missive was from Akkarin. But Akkarin was dead. Dannyl had looked up to confront the messenger, but had found the man smiling. _You do not remember me, I see. And that is fine. Take your High Lord's words to heart. He knows you need him, will need him, and soon. Complete his request and go to Kyralia._ The man had stood then and tipped his head in leavetaking, a glint of red reflecting from his hand as he did so. Dannyl was too dazed to stop him or question him further.

And now here he was, returned to Kyralia with too many questions and absolutely no answers. He had spent several days speaking to his old friends and colleagues, addressing the Guild and updating it on matters in Elyne, but he had yet to approach anyone regarding Akkarin's mysterious message. It was certainly possible that it was all a trick, yet he could see no purpose in it. That made it all the more frustrating. Taking a deep breath, Dannyl rose and moved to his table, sweeping a hand to his wine glass and taking a sip all in one gesture. Soon, he would have to address High Lord Balkan about this message and ask permission to access Akkarin's private library. But something had kept him from asking the current High Lord and that bothered him more than a message from a man that was dead and several months gone.

--------------------

As the last bell rang, signalling the end of morning classes, several novices quickly packed away their notes and cleaned their trays, depositing a few vials into a collection stand on Lady Katama's desk at the front of the room. Noting each novice's work in turn, she made a series of scribbles on her sheet and dismissed those students after finding their results satisfactory. Unlike the others, Sonea took her time in making sure each sheet of notes was in order and settled to her liking, carefully setting them in her box before wiping down her tray and taking her vials to the front. She was the last student in the class to bring up her results.

"Here are my vials, Lady Katama," she said, placing them in the stand on the front desk. "Did you need help with anything else?" Sonea's tone was hopeful. Anything to keep her mind off her current state.

Katama turned to face her pupil with a smile, but shook her head. "No, Sonea, I'm fine. You should be out enjoying this dry weather while it lasts..." She turned to look at Sonea's results, but a frown caught at the corner of her lip. "I think you might need to redo your last mixture. The fluid is supposed to be a few shades darker than you've got it here." Lifting the vial from the stand, she held it up in the light for consideration. Around the side of the vial, she peered at Sonea, adding, "Your mind has not been on my lectures lately." It was not a question, even if the tone was pleasant enough.

Gulping, Sonea managed a faint smile. "I'm sorry, my lady. I've been working at the hospital and keeping up with my studies, but..." she was going to continue, but seeing the look on Lady Katama's face, thought better of it and simply finished, "But you are right. My mind was not on today's lecture as it should have been." She looked away then, sighing, her eyes seeking the window of the second story room and the white sky beyond.

Shaking her head, Lady Katama exhaled a long breath. "Well I'll expect you here tomorrow morning before your first class to do it again. You may not be as inexperienced as the rest of the novices, Sonea, but these studies are important. You cannot continue into your next year Alchemy class without passing this one. You know that. Now..." she paused, gaining Sonea's attention again, "Go and see if you can pull yourself back to your studies. I'll see you in the morning."

Nodding her head once in a quick bow, Sonea said, "Thank you, Lady Katama. I will see you in the morning." Grabbing her box to her chest, she walked quickly from the room, exiting to the hallway as her throat constricted and her eyes began to tear. She'd been fine all morning, _Why now?_ The hallway was filled with novices and teachers, she dared not start blubbering here. Stepping to the side to let a larger group of smiling, laughing students go by, she pretended to sift through her notes as if searching for something she could not find. A tight knot began to form in her chest and she knew she could not dare the Foodhall. Not now.

After the group had passed, she slipped down another passage that led back toward the Residences and let her feet guide her as thoughts prodded her mind for attention. All Sonea had been able to think about all morning was a way to get Dannyl's help without managing to attract attention. She couldn't go to Elyne and she wasn't important enough to request an Ambassador return from his duties. To top it all off, Lady Katama was right. It hadn't just been one class, but several days and weeks of her just managing to get by. Finally, one of her teachers had noticed a legitimate slip. She couldn't continue like this forever because, eventually, all her classes would suffer.

In a corridor on the lower level, when she was alone at last, a sob broke through. She desperately did not want to be found crying like a first-year away from home for the first time! Forcing her feet to move, sniffing back the wave of sadness that threatened to come down on her, she all but ran from the University and blindly headed for her room, hardly looking where she was going. The tears began to fall just as Sonea pulled open the door to the Magician's Quarters and ran right into a tall body in purple robes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I...I wasn't lookin..." she blubbered through her tears, not daring to look up.

"Sonea?" The incredulous voice jerked her chin up from where it had been plastered to her chest. An overwhelmed mess of tears, her eyes gazed up to find a surprised Dannyl with his hands firmly supporting her shoulders. Before Sonea could answer, her lips drew into an astonished 'o'. Letting out a cry of anguished joy, she pressed herself against Dannyl in a crushing hug, letting her tears fall regardless of who was watching, feeling his arms fold around her as she wept freely in the presence of another for the first time since Akkarin's death.

--------------------

Outside the walls of the Magician's Residence, the wind began to howl again and rain soon started to fall, pattering lightly against the windows of the building and quickly gaining in intensity. Already well past the lunch hour and afternoon classes now having begun, Dannyl found his mind reeling more now that it had been before he left Elyne. A few hours previous, he'd been contemplating several mysteries but now he had only one. Sonea.

She had relayed to him her entire story of the many months since he'd last been in Imardin. With help, Sonea had set up the dwell hospital by the gates, had resumed classes and had been put under some sort of house arrest within the Guild grounds - for her protection as well as the city's. Unsure of what to make of all this he had encouraged her to continue. She then told him about the voices that plagued her, how she could hardly concentrate in her classes and, finally, about Takan's story that had made her believe all of this was somehow related to the black magic she and Akkarin practiced together. More than anything else, she wanted to move on in whatever way was possible which Dannyl thought very noble of her, all things considered. Only one thing stood in her way. Akkarin.

No longer the impudent, frightened child he and Rothen had rescued from herself in the slums almost four years ago, Dannyl found himself sitting across from a young woman completely beside herself. Normally he would suggest that such a girl move on and, in time, all would resolve itself. Such was not to be for Sonea, he now knew. Somehow, Akkarin had found a way to cheat death and was calling to her from where ever his spirit now resided. While that thought sent shivers down Dannyl's spine and did not bode at all well for the Guild or Sonea, it did answer how he was able to receive a missive in Elyne from a man supposed to be dead. As if that hadn't been enough, Sonea had been given Dannyl's name by what she thought was Akkarin's spirit, presumably as someone who could give her aide. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again having made up his mind. "I have something to show you, Sonea. I... I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I think this may be some small help to you." Pulling the missive from its tube, he offered it to her.

Wiping her eyes with a cloth, still sniffing, Sonea took the message and began to read, her face displaying a wealth of emotions Dannyl couldn't even begin to decipher. Instead, he spoke up. "Sonea, I know it must look strange, but... you probably would know better than I if... if this is from Akkarin."

Her mouth worked slowly over the words as she read them, again and again, finally looking up as if seeing Dannyl for the first time. "Where did you get this?" Her tone was full of sad wonder but suspicion sparked in her eyes.

Exhaling, Dannyl let his arms fall to his sides in a gesture of helplessness. "A man in Elyne delivered it to me. He claimed he had been instructed **by the High Lord himself** to deliver it to me a certain number of months after said High Lord's death." Pointing at the letter, he added, "You saw what it said there, about the private library and about him returning..." For the first time since he had read the letter, Dannyl felt a feeling of foreboding spread through his chest and wished Tayend was here. The scholar had a way of helping Dannyl to feel right, even when everything was going wrong. He sighed. "What should we do, Sonea?"

Lips pressing together, Sonea swallowed hard. "I...I.. believe you and I believe this is from Akkarin. And I believe we should bring this to Osen and Balkan. Balkan's living in the Residence now, with Takan. I suppose I could have Takan bring us the books without asking... assuming it is books we're after... but..." Her words drifted off as she continued to think, then let out a breath. "No," her eyes flashed as she looked up, locking gazes with Dannyl, "If we're to go about this the right way, we'll need them. The High Lord," she cringed, "At least, and also Osen." Handing back the message to Dannyl, she added with a lopsided smile. "They aren't going to like this, you know."

Dannyl let out a laugh, surprised that she could still find some humor, even under the weight of such burdens. "Oh Sonea, you are indeed a formidible woman. Poor Balkan and Osen!" Sonea winced at his reply, but her smile remained. "When shall we go?" he asked, tucking the message back into its tube but keeping a hand on it despite wishing he'd never seen it.

"We go now." Determination filled Sonea's voice and she stood, brushing the wrinkles from her robes and wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "Or I might lose my nerve. Are you coming?"

Standing, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, Dannyl nodded, "Wouldn't miss it for all the world." As he followed Sonea out the door and locked his rooms with a thought, he couldn't help but feel as though time was running out somehow. Balkan was not known for being the most forgiving of people and Osen would likely bend to his will in a matter so odd as this. _This is not going to be easy..._ he acknowledged, but knew that the worthwhile things were often not easy. His relationship with Tayend had not been easy to come to terms with, but he had done it. And in a way, he owed it to Sonea to help her in this as much as he could. Everyone deserved to feel the happiness he had with Tayend. He smiled as a memory of Tayend flashed easily into his thoughts.

Perhaps there would be a happy ending to this after all.


	5. Chapter 5, Reserving Judgement

Ch 5 - Reserving Judgement

A downpour held Imardin at a relative standstill from early afternoon into the evening, painting the sky a rough grey, thick with ominous clouds that hung over the sodden lawns and slick pathways. The denizens of the city proper kept mainly indoors, delaying the inevitable soaking with an early drink in a bolhouse, extra minutes of work for the day, or a few idle moments of chatter. No exception to the rule, the Guild grounds were empty but for a few souls darting from building to building yet, while they might have seemed deserted to the untrained eye, those accustomed to the peculiarities of magicians would undoubtly see hints of activity in all nooks and crannies.

With a sharp knife in one hand and a vegetable firmly held in place upon his cuttingboard, Takan found his attention wandering once again as his eyes focused out the window, locking on nothing in particular. Sighing, the servant forced his gaze back to the task at hand, deftly applying the blade to the vegetable, noting the width of each slice. Every one was a perfect match for the rest. Nodding in satisfaction, he moved to the next vegetable, still finding his concentration drifting, despite his best wishes to stay on task. Normally, designing the evening meal was an involving delight. Normally, he had no trouble thoroughly losing himself in his creation. Normally, he didn't have to worry about his deceased master calling to his mourning lover from beyond the grave.

A sweep of his hand propelled every slice from the board into a bowl he'd set out, allowing a moment for contemplation as he tossed the vegetables into a mixture. Takan scowled. Sonea, he knew, could more than take care of herself. Her aunt was also coming to stay with her for a while, he'd overhead Rothen say in a conversation with Balkan some weeks back. So why, then, the feelings of foreboding? Picking out a few slices from the bowl to taste, he thought back to his years with Akkarin. They had shared a bond as well, a bond of power, yet he had never experienced anything of what Sonea mentioned. And likewise, when Dakova had perished by Akkarin's hand, still nothing. _Something_, he mused, _something is missing_.

Shaking his head, Takan stretched his hand out for the bottles of spiced oil from the counter. Lips pressed into a thin line, brow creased, he applied the oil to the mixture a few drops at a time, pausing as a sound reached his ears from another room. In the silence of the kitchen, he strained to hear if the sound came again and caught the definite sound of Balkan's footsteps going down the stairs as the High Lord passed the kitchen. Suppressing a smile, he closed the bottle and replaced it. Balkan had a very distinctive sound to his walk.

Checking once to make sure his other preparations were in order, Takan left the kitchen in search of Balkan and whatever - or whomever - had garnered his attention.

--------------------

Evening was fast approaching as Balkan finished reading through Osen's reports about the various issues in the Guild. The "rogue" magician was progressing through his classes, even if slowly. Lord Davin's "lookout and weather tower" was finally starting to see some progress, though it was looking more and more like Davin would be the only one considering weather as its primary use. A few novices were having problems. Lady Lianna had just given birth to a healthy baby boy, Orlow. Each report was carefully read then filed away into the 'seen and approved' box. He was just tidying up the loose ends when a mental call caught his attention.

-_High Lord?_

Balkan frowned as glanced out the window, noting the sun had nearly set. Dinner was to be served at sunset tonight and Sonea was calling on him for something. No doubt she has some other demands to impose upon us, he grumbled to himself, thinking of their most recent conversation and replied.

-_Yes, Sonea?_

Leaving his study, a mage light floated along behind him as he traversed the hallway, lighting his path brightly. He paused hearing Sonea's answer.

-_If it isn't too much trouble, we would like to see you. Now._

Eyebrows rising at the tone in her "voice", Balkan took to moving again, setting a path down the stairs and past the kitchen.

-_We?_

-_Yes_ - she paused - _High Lord. Myself and Lord Dannyl_.

Balkan's frown deepened, noting the pause and the other magician's name. Dannyl was one of the Guild's Ambassadors to Elyne. He had neither been called upon nor scheduled to return, not for another month at least. Rolling his eyes, the High Lord sent a reply as he reached the front room of the residence and settled himself in his overstuffed chair.

-_Is it absolutely necessary Sonea? We were just about to have our meal_.

A more lengthy than needed pause all but ended the conversation, but at last a reply came from Dannyl, not Sonea.

-_Yes, it is very much necessary, High Lord_.

-_Fine. Be quick about it_.

Glancing over his shoulder, Balkan huffed out an exasperated, "Takan! I see you there, man, no need to hide in the shadows. Lord Dannyl and Sonea are to be our... guests shortly. Please grab out one of those bottles of wine so we can have a civilized conversation. Oh," he waved the servant back after a moment when Takan had turned to leave. "Bring me one of those black neck-cloths or whatever they are. Damned white robes they decided on. Can't seem to keep them presentable." Watching Takan take his leave as silently as he entered, Balkan wondered with sudden dread what Sonea could possibly need to speak about so urgently. Of those few topics he dredged up, only a rare handful might also include Dannyl.

Gouging his fingers into his temples to ease the tension wrapping his thoughts in pain, he suddenly wondered if he just wouldn't be happier not knowing.

--------------------

The fireplace crackled and popped cheerily in the background as Sonea and Dannyl related their interwoven tales, each taking turns, their faces shadowed by the backlighting, gaining an assortment of ominous angles. When the story-telling ended, Sonea replied, "So you see, High Lord Balkan, Dannyl and I have quite a, um..." a pause, "A puzzle to solve." Lifting her gaze, she implored Balkan with her eyes to see their need, to let them have what they needed. Dannyl sat to her right, both of them in chairs facing the High Lord, Takan hovering somewhere near the stairway leading to the dining room.

Balkan's face reflected his thoughts as he sought to digest the unhealthy heap of information the two magician's had gifted him with this evening. Outside a storm had built, wrecking havoc with his temples as the tension coursed through his head. "I'm not even sure where to begin with this Sonea. The information you are asking for is proscribed and should be confiscated! And even if you did look at it, who knows what sort of wild ravi chase that might lead you on." His characteristic frown regarded them, yet it was not the usual, impenetrable frown. This frown held a hint of fear and helplessness.

Something inside Sonea flipped over in a way that eeriely reminded her of those times before her magic was under control and she'd had no way of knowing what damage her powers had caused. Swallowing down the knot of panic that threatened, she crossed her arms over her chest. Dannyl had been about to reply but, on seeing the look on her face, let her answer instead. "We're not leaving without seeing the materials, High Lord. There is some reason we must. You didn't trust Akkarin before," she molded the words to cut and flung them like a well-balanced dagger, "Trust me now or we may face worse consequences." Brief satisfaction welled in her breast at the flinch that statement illicited from the High Lord.

Spreading his hands out in a placating gesture, Balkan leaned back. "Fine. But only you may see whatever other manuscript Akkarin has waiting, Sonea. And, of course," he sighed resignedly, "Dannyl may view his own research. Take Takan with you...I trust him to hold you to my requests." At the look of unbridaled elation on Sonea's face and the shock mirroring it on Dannyl's, Balkan held up a finger of warning as the two younger magicians stood up excitedly. "Before you go, remember to report your findings back to me. Whatever happens afterward will be my decision along with the other higher magicians. See that you don't ask too much. The Guild can only take so much more. And Sonea, stay a moment, would you?"

Waving Dannyl to go on with Takan, she sat back down, eager to be on to solving the enigma at hand but unable to deny the High Lord.

When Dannyl had left, Balkan steepled his fingers and stared over his hands at her. "I..." he started, but stopped. After a moment, he tried again, "I know this has been a hard time. I... We all were," a pause, "Grateful for... for the sacrifices. You need to know that I held Akkarin in the highest regard. His betrayal, I.. we..." For a moment, he seemed to lose track of his thoughts and stared off, away from her. At last, he dragged his gaze back and, with a deep breath, added, "We cannot survive another Invasion. Many who were inflexible before can be made to bend now. Make a convincing argument. Use Dannyl's skills. He's become quite the wordsmith, I hear." Managing a faint smile, he waved her on, smile disappearing as he picked up a black cloth from the table next to him and draped it over his neck like a collar.

As Sonea stood up at the obvious dismissal in Balkan's tone, confusion warred with genuine excitement. "Thank you, High Lord. We will do our best not to... inconvenience Imardin any further." She made a slight bow and took herself from the room.

Hearing the young girl leave, Balkan was left alone once again. _She is so young..._ Picking up his glass of wine, smoothing down the collar to prevent himself from making a mess, he took a deep drink and hardly noticed the exquisite taste of the Anuren dark. The howling winds and driving rains had ceased, by the startling quietude, but his temples still pounded ceaselessly. Though he'd been in no mood to argue with Sonea, for she was a formidable opponent even still, her story and Dannyl's painted a frightening picture. Akkarin had often alluded to how little was understood of the mysteries of consciousness and life. Could it be he had found a way to cheat death of her due? Lips pressed in thought, he found that thought more than a little disturbing. Even more disturbing that it was somehow linked into the black magic by the story Takan had related to Sonea and other nagging details. Setting his glass down again, he leaned back in the chair and found his eyes closing.

Perhaps reason could be found in all this madness.


	6. Chapter 6, The Weight of Destiny

Ch 6 - The Weight of Destiny

Thick silence permeated the residence of the High Lord of the Guild of Imardin. The late hours had already passed and night had descended upon the land long before, leaving most of the lights in the building extinguished but one. In that room, wood-panelled walls were filled with tapestries and pictures, bookshelves pressed close in on each other, laden with volumes on all manner of topics ranging from the trade practices of the Vin to the proud traditions of the Lonmar and a thick pile carpet covered the floor. Several chairs surrounded one large table, almost a desk, that dominated a whole side of the room, an antique lamp taking up one full corner of the burnished wood tabletop. The remaining spare room on the table's surface was covered with scrolls, manuscripts, tubes, paper in various sizes and the elbows of two magicians.

"This doesn't seem to have any proper information in it at all!" Dannyl gasped in exasperation, pushing a manuscript aside with a huff. He sat back in his chair, rubbed his eyes and turned to regard Sonea who was seated across from him. "I found my work, but this," he held up the tube from the mysterious Elynian, "This does seem to imply we should have an easy time finding Akkarin's other source. And," a sigh, "We've been here for hours." Rolling his eyes, he craned his neck to stare up at the ceiling.

With sympathy clearly written in her gaze, Sonea regarded Dannyl's chin since his head was tipped backwards. When he looked back down, she smiled weakly. "It does seem to, doesn't it." Placing one hand on the book she'd been perusing seconds before, a quirk of her lips twisted that smile into a thoughtful frown. "We've poked and prodded through so many volumes, the shelves are nearly bare. I can't hardly find a single thing of worth here," she jabbed a finger at her stack of texts, "And I know you're not having any luck either. None of this seems," she paused, struggling to find the right word, balling her fists on the table, "Personal enough." Unclenching her fists, she shrugged, turning to Takan who had taken a seat near the wall and was staring out the window into the vastness of the darkened Guild grounds. "Takan?"

Turning with an unsettling grace, the servant held Sonea's gaze for a quick moment before bobbing his head in a small bow. "My lady?"

Struggling to keep from smiling at the deference, Sonea replied, "Dannyl and I are, regrettably, having little luck. If you had any insight, we would love some assistance?" She phrased it as a question, hoping to illicit his help. If anyone could tell them where Akkarin had kept a book or manuscript he wanted no one else to find, surely it would be his faithful servant, Takan.

Takan's brow scrunched in an uncharacteristic gesture of deep thought. His lips pressed tightly and he stood, standing momentarily to stretch before approaching the two frustrated magicians. "I am unsure of what, particularly, Akkarin meant for you to find, Lady." A whisper of an exhale escaped and he continued, "But, I do not think it would anything left out deliberately. Remember that they searched the residence when he was," Takan flushed mildly but kept on, "accused of slaying Lord Dalin's family and servants. Nothing proscribed would have been left behind. Yet..." he paused, pressing his hands together before him, "I do not believe that the volume he describes would have been anything to catch their attention either. If the other magicians did not, I believe that you will." Now he specifically trained his gaze on Sonea, startling her with the frankness of his gaze. "Somehow, I know you will succeed, my Lady." A rare smile turned up the corners of his lips. "And I think I will merely be in the way. Please ask again if you think I may be of any specific assistance. For now, I think, I shall return to my chair and my view." He bowed and withdrew, leaving Sonea confused but reassured.

Sonea found Dannyl staring at her from across the table. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied, grinning widely at her. "You have a most remarkable look on your face, is all." Before she could respond, he added, "And now I think I shall remove myself from this chair before it becomes stuck to me permanently. Takan," he called, getting the servant's immediate attention, "Would you mind terribly if we found something to drink in the kitchen? I fear I'd never be able to find any such thing on my own..." Dannyl tossed Sonea a quick wink before giving Takan his attention.

Takan rose and bowed, "Of course, Lord Dannyl. If you will follow me please?" and, with a knowing glance in Sonea's direction, he led Dannyl from the room and down the stairs to the kitchen.

When the two were gone, Sonea closed her eyes as the silence pressed in on her again. They had been in the study for hours, feeling as though they were missing something or overlooking something obvious and all the further they'd gotten was to make a mess and create several piles of books that were complete irrelevant to the subject at hand. It had seemed a simple thing at the time to walk into the study and merely pick up whatever they needed and suddenly have all the answers. Both of them had thought the most difficult part would be convincing Balkan! Yet he had acquiesced almost too easily. Renewed frustration forced her lips into a distinctive frown and she opened her eyes, half expecting to see the High Lord standing over her with a malicious grin. It was too easy to imagine Balkan having already secreted away the volume they wanted, but she knew if, as Takan said, the higher magicians did not find it, then the new High Lord could not have found it either.

Rising from her chair, Sonea shook the stiffness from her legs and wandered to the nearest shelf. Laying a hand on one of the volumes they had not perused yet, she ran a finger over its spine and the spines of the books nearest it. Some of the volumes were freakishly large, too tall to fit a regular shelf so they had been placed flat instead. Others were so small it was hard to call them a book. In one case, Dannyl had come across a bound copy of hand-written notes, but the excitement of the find soon dwindled when they saw it contained nothing more than records of the plantings and gardens of the Servants' Quarters and the Healers' Gardens. The books ranged in age from the crisp and new to the old and tattered. Neither of them had any idea what their volume would look like, they would only know it once it had been found.

Sparing a glance for the night sky outside, Sonea put a hand to the necklace hidden beneath her robes. She had not been haunted by voices - the voice, she corrected herself - in days. Maybe nothing sinister was happening, she thought wryly, _Maybe I'm only losing my mind._ A short laugh escaped in spite of itself, filling the room loudly. Looking around to make sure no one was around to hear or see, she relaxed slightly and pulled the metal chain and its large-ish burden out into the open for the first time since putting it on.

The twists and turns of the metal had a very insect-like appearance. Cery had told her it was an "inava", meant to bestow luck upon its wearer. He'd said that she was likely to need it, more so than he. Sonea had to concede that he was probably right. Even now as she stared down at the little filigreed bits and pieces she had to smile. It was quite beautiful but, of course, Cery would have access to all the best metalsmiths and jewelers, in his current position of power. Her fingers slipped over the hidden gems and a catch in her throat strangled the breath she was about to take. Forcing the feelings away again, she reminded herself that now was not the time to get "womanly". Something about the feeling, however, gave her pause. If the voice she'd heard was indeed Akkarin and he'd gone through all this trouble to preserve himself somehow and now needed her help, she wondered if that didn't go both ways. Once again looking down at the pendant hanging loosely atop her robes, she pressed one hand over it closed her eyes, concentrating on her feelings, on the life hidden within her, on Akkarin and his final moments and on their twin need. And then she began to walk.

--------------------

A single, green-tinged mage globe hovered over Dannyl and Takan's heads in the kitchen a floor away from the study. The room was otherwise dark, but Dannyl could make out the cupboards, the countertops, the island in the middle of the room and various other paraphinalia that belonged in a kitchen. Smiling down into his cup, he watched the golden liquid swirl around and around, a ring of tiny bubbles clinging to the glass. "What did you call this again, Takan?" he inquired.

"Pachi Harvest, is its official name, Lord Dannyl," the man replied in the soft tones Dannyl had come to expect from him. He was not loud yet his voice seemed to carry beyond the expectation. "It is a wine made in a different way from the pachi fruit. I suspect they have added something to the process, but wine-making is not one of my passions." He regarded Dannyl expectantly but found the magician was staring down into the glass.

"It's quite tart for a wine. Interesting. I'll have to procure a bottle to share with the Elyne's. Likely this will drive them wild with curiosity." He looked up and caught Takan watching him, "Anything for a little curiosity's sake in Elyne, you know?" Though the servant gave no response, he added, "So what is your opinion, then? Surely you must be able to help us more than you have?" His tone was hopeful.

Shaking his head before even replying, Takan shrugged. "I made Akkarin promise never to confide his secrets to me, to give me no more knowledge than I had already. I suspect this is one of those things and he always honored my wishes. No, Lord Dannyl, I am as in the dark as you. I fear Sonea is the only one who has the hope of finding what is needed for she is the one with the connections required." He took a sip from his cup but looked thoughful nevertheless.

"Sonea then," Dannyl nodded knowingly. He had suspected as much. Not that he had expected Balkan to give up so easily, for that was terribly uncharacteristic of the Balkan he knew, but he'd known from the beginning that Sonea would get her way in this. If the Guild had been more receptive of Akkarin when he was first accused, much suffering could have been avoided. Sighing inwardly, he had to admit the quest he was on now was a direct bit of particulate from that storm of wreckage the Ichani had unleashed upon Imardin. Without Akkarin none of this would have happened, but with him they had perservered. And now, without him again, they were vulnerable. The Guild was making concessions, though not fast enough. He was worried, along with everyone else and Elyne as well, that the Ichani were far from conquered. After all, if Akkarin might be able to cheat death with black magic, what could the Ichani do! No, that thought was too frightening to even speak it aloud. He knew that thought to be the foremost in his mind and likely had swayed Balkan to consider what he would not otherwise have considered. Legions of reborn Ichani sitting on their border just waiting...

Takan cleared his throat, shaking Dannyl from his reverie and followed the servant's gaze to the doorway. A teary-eyed Sonea stood in the entrance to the kitchen, staring into the room at the two men. "I..." she began as Dannyl rushed to her side. His eyes caught a glimpse of a something necklace-like clasped in her hand over the top of her robes and a small, unadorned volume in the other. Seeing the worry blossom in his eyes, she tried to smile and wound up sniffing. "It seems we were looking in the wrong place."

Looking from the volume to Sonea and back to Takan and then Sonea again, Dannyl swallowed down the unease fluttering in the cage of his chest and exhaled. "Alright then, back to the study. It looks like we're about to confront Balkan with some uncomfortable truths."

Sonea nodded and left the way she'd come. He could hear her sniffs recede back up the stairs and watched the empty doorway for a moment more. Without turning, he added, "Wake the High Lord, please, Takan. Tell him we need to speak with him right away. Sonea and I will await him in the study." And without waiting for confirmation, he followed after Sonea, his treads light upon the stairs.

A few seconds later, another set of footsteps, barely audible, followed behind him. When he turned into the study, he caught sight of Takan continue on down the hallway to the High Lord's chambers. Taking a deep breath, he settled himself into a chair next to Sonea and watched as she looked down at the book. The pendant was nowhere in sight. Let her have her secrets, he thought. _Soon, we'll all have a few more..._

--------------------

A timing candle burned brightly in its wall sconce, marking the first hour of morning. No sounds filtered in from the floor below the High Lord's room or from the study just down the hallway, a few rooms away. Outside, night held sway over the Guild and the city in which it was built and those who felt more comfortable under the guise of night were happily awake and busy.

Lord Balkan, High Lord of the Guild, found the night uncomfortable at best. He had never been an easy sleeper, but when faced with recent consequences, sleep had become his enemy and rest was ellusive. Knowing about the research going on under his roof, recently Akkarin's roof he reminded himself, he'd known better than attempting sleep. Instead, he sat perched in a chair next to his beside, wrapped in the warmth of a reber-wool robe. Beneath, he still wore his robes of office, acknowledging they would likely be needed again tonight (or morning) and not wanting to waste the time in on changing for comfort's sake. No, he preferred to remain uncomfortable right now. It suited his thoughts quite well. If he could not sleep and he could not quiet his thoughts, then he would remain physically as well as mentally and emotionally put out.

Sighing, he closed the book on his lap and ceased trying to distract himself. Nothing was liable to ease the tension in his head. Food and wine had eased the pounding ache in his skull earlier, but the tension still remained. It sat like a net, draped over his head, pressing on all the sensitive spots and kept him from concentrating.

A knock at the door all but unsettled his meal from his stomach and his backside from the chair. Grumbling aloud at the abrupt disruption and the immediate discomfort it caused, he called, "Come in Takan."

The door eased open and the man slipped into the room. Balkan took a moment to appreciate his stealth and propriety. It was no wonder Akkarin had kept him all those years. "What news have you? Presumably Sonea and Dannyl have something for me?" He had hoped not, yet undeniably knew once Sonea had decided on something it took all the force in the Guild to turn her away. Not even gangs of novices could deny her studies nor hordes of magicians force her to like the Guild.

Seeing the servant nod, for no other reply was needed, the High Lord stood up and removed the blanket from his shoulders, placing the book on his bedside table. "Inform them I'll be a moment, please."

The door closed as quietly as it had opened and Balkan stared down at the whiteness of the robes covering his body. No stains. Heaving a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and centered himself, breathing in and out in a quick mental exercise. When he had sufficiently calmed himself, he opened his eyes and strode for the door, emptying his thoughts of everything but the will to survive whatever his magicians had found. He only hoped he, the Guild and Imardin were ready.

--------------------

If he had expected confusion, clamor and a feverish moving of bodies and books and such back and forth, the look on the High Lord's face showed no disappointment as he entered, a few moments later as Takan had promised. Sonea had taken care of the teary mess she'd been not so long ago but had resisted Dannyl's attempts to coax the story out of her as to how and where she had found the tome. Finally, he had relented and she could focus on what now needed to be done. Balkan must be convinced.

Standing, as Dannyl and Takan had at Balkan's entry, all three bowed to the High Lord and Sonea motioned to the chair opposite her at the table. Dannyl had taken a place to her right and Takan was back in his seat near the window, casually peering out as though nothing of import were going on behind him. "Good morning, High Lord. I hope we did not pull you from anything important."

Balkan tossed a wry glance her direction and placed his hands on the empty table. "Sonea, I wasn't sleeping. How could I sleep when you're constantly dropping mysteries in my lap? You make me regret accepting my title, young lady, but this is not a discussion to have now. What have you found?" He eyed the book in front of her and the collection of folders, leaflets and notations in front of Dannyl.

"This is the Hi... Akkarin's personal diary," Sonea corrected herself, maintaining painfully direct eye contact with Balkan.

He could not keep surprise from registering on his face. "Diary?!" Balkan and Dannyl said at the same time.

A small smile pulled at the corner of Sonea's mouth at the twin reactions. "Yes, diary. Lorlen had once said Akkarin had a diary but that Akkarin claimed to have lost it or some such. Apparently he either started a new one or lied. I believe he lied," she said but hastily added, on seeing Balkan's face, "But I believe he had good reason. Black magic was proscribed. He could not allow Lorlen or any else to discover his researches. This book holds many truths and also several speculations. I believe it is a combination of both that we were looking for."

Balkan fell silent and Dannyl had long since sat back. Takan, however, had looked over and was regarding the trio with interest. Sonea saw him out of the corner of her eye but chose not to include him until he offered to include himself. Balkan broke the silence first. "And in reading this diary, will any of us be learning black magic?" He spoke steadily, authoritatively, but Sonea read the nervousness in his posture, the way he clasped his hands together on the table in front of him.

She nodded, "Perhaps you would if you had some knowledge of what Akkarin was referring to. Most likely, however, you would only learn that he definitively knew about the practices. No, this is no lesson book. Those books you have already, though they are not helpfully written." Pausing in thought, Sonea decided to add, "However, if you would prefer not to know the details, I can simply tell you about the important parts."

Dannyl, she saw, had taken to chewing on his lower lip as he often did when thoughtful. Balkan looked between her and Dannyl and finally nodded. "So long as you confirm and agree that we will not be learning anything proscribed..." seeing her about to interrupt, he corrected himself, "Or perhaps currently proscribed, since we have no way of knowing what will befall us after all the business is done. Will you agree to that?"

"Yes, High Lord." Relief flooded her entire body but, knowing she was nowhere near finished, she sat straighter and steeled her resolve. "I promise not to teach you, Dannyl or Takan anything currently proscribed." Seeing all three relax visibly, she smiled and gathered the small book to her. When Balkan nodded, she began, "The most important thing you know already that pertains to our current dilemma is the concept of the blood gems and power storing gems that "black magic" can create. Akkarin made several in his lifetime and it is clearly stated that they become useless when the maker dies. I am in possession of two of his rings and Takan has a third." Finding her audience enrapt, she continued, "I cannot teach you how to make them, but I will tell you what you need. You need blood or some other bodily substance that is part of your living being and you need an understanding of black magic. That is it."

"Am I correct then," Balkan interjected after a moment of pause, "That you have the ring he made for Lorlen? And may I assume he made a ring for you?"

"You are correct on both counts, High Lord," she replied. Seeing him nod, once more she continued, "It struck Akkarin during his travels to find ancient magic, of which we are all aware so I need not explain his reasonings, that life and magic are all but intertwined for magicians. When you remove the connection between them, you have a dead magician. No one can bring back a person from the dead, our teachings tell us. However," here she paused, gathering herself and her confidence, "Akkarin found or suspected that the ancient societies had discovered such a way..." A gasp arose from Dannyl, but no one wanted to speak. It was one thing to suspect, another thing to know such a terrible thing was possible.

"It was thought that, in times of great need, magicians could be preserved and returned to flesh, but," Sonea stopped, caught by a sudden stab of sadness.

"But what, Sonea," Dannyl asked, despite his best wishes to remain silent. The look on her face was terrible to behold.

"But... only in two ways." Her gaze flickered to Takan and back, but so quickly no one noticed but him. The look on his face was guarded, or at least more guarded than usual. She could make nothing of his expression so heaved a great sigh and continued. "The beginning of both ways is the same. Have the intended create a power storing gem in a specific way that imprinted a sense of 'themself' into it. It was not a gem that another could wear because it gave the wearer access to the maker in unusual ways. Akkarin has a note about accessing the soul. He wrote that it had... great potential for misuse."

"I'll say," Balkan snorted, but waved her on. His face was as unreadable as Takan's but Sonea could make easy guesses about the affect her words were having.

"When the intended dies, he knows where he has hidden his gem and sends his... or her soul into it. It will remain there for only a set period of time. The more intricate the power gem, the longer the spirit can last. Glass is the most typical component and would last the least long. But that... that only stores the potential for bringing back a magician. It... it doesn't actually bring them back." Swallowing down her fear, her nervousness and the little bit of elation holding them all together, Sonea said, "And this is where there are two ways. The first way is to charge the gem with constant energy. Enough energy must be poured into the gem to give the intended spirit a way to access the physical realm. The amount of energy needed is enormous which, Akkarin notes, is why it was only reserved for times of great need." Seeing Balkan's eyes widen, imagining Dannyl's look must the same, she sighed, " Then there is the second way." Having a hard time keeping her voice level, she took a few deep breaths. No one rushed her.

When she was ready, Sonea said, "The... the second way." Another deep breath escaped. "The second way is very simple and requires almost no power. A magician or... potential magician must," she gulped, not daring to look at any of the three now, "Sacrifice him or herself so that the intended spirit may reform their physical, living body into a vessel for the new soul. In... in order for it to be successful, the sacrificial magician must be nearly as powerful as the original magician. Usually, it was one of their descendants because magic tended to breed into bloodlines." Wringing her hands, she closed the book in front of her and laid down a large, blood-red ruby in front of them. The gem glowed with a brilliance that had nothing to do with the nearby lamp. "This is Akkarin's power gem."

As three gasps escaped sharply into the air around her, Sonea couldn't help but feel relieved in a small way. She had done her part of the deal, hadn't she? Would Akkarin's spirit leave her in peace now that the Guild knew what he had done? Questions flitted around in her brain faster than she could find answers for them. When she finally looked up at the trio of men around her, Sonea almost laughed. The expressions on their faces were so comical. Balkan looked like he'd been kicked in the head by a reber. Dannyl was opening and closing his mouth like a fish tossed onto land and Takan, Takan was staring straight at her with a look of complete incredulity. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you, High Lord."

Several moments of silence passed before Balkan swallowed hard and smoothed out some imaginary wrinkles on the sleeves of his robes. "Sonea," he began, hesitant to gaze at her clutching the book tightly in her hand. His eyes avoided the gem altogether. "I don't know what to say. I..." He looked to Dannyl, who shrugged, and returned his attention to her. "You realize we have no reason to trust this knowledge. We don't even have a reason to use it... We..." Spreading his hands in a way that meant the entire guild, he added, "This is a heavy weight," then fell silent.

Shock hit Sonea like a bucket of chill water. No reason to trust? No reason to use it? She had expected resistance but not outright denial. Her mind reeled and she stood up, planting the book on the table with an audible thud in the deathly silent room. "No reason? No reason?!" her voice was quiet, with a harsh edge. "You remember what I said earlier, High Lord. You didn't trust Akkarin the first time and look where that got us." She punctuated her former guardian's name hard. "He's sent us a letter, through Dannyl, that said we would need him. You have an entire city, a court of nobles, a king and guild all worried about another Invasion and you..." she paused, breathing slowly to calm herself and finding it not help, "You would tell me that there is no reason." Licking her lips, she stepped away from the table and pushed her chair in, picking up the book and clutching it tightly. Her eyes bored into Balkan and, though he shrank visibly from her gaze, she did not care. "I only hope you live to regret that decision."

Without waiting, Sonea turned and fled the room, still holding the book closely to her, rage burning in her chest. Startled shouts and loud mental calls vied for her attention, asking her, ordering her to pause but she did not. Anger warred with the hope she had felt and the sadness, knowing a solution stood before them and knowing she was the only one willing to sacrifice. She was the only one now. As Akkarin had been. Grief hit her in the gut, angry grief and she ran then, down the hallway, down the stairs, past her old room and through the entry hall before she even knew where she was or where she might go. Stopping just outside the door to the Residence, slamming it closed with a barely-satisfying huff, she realized her escort had been left behind but also found she did not care. She continued on to her quarters alone, holding one hand over the hidden pendant and cradling the book to her chest in doing so. It was all she had to go by and she would not let it go. Sonea had thought she could let this go and knew, now, that she could not. He would not let her go until she had seen her destiny through to the utter end. In some small way, that made her feel a small bit better and on she ran as a plan took shape, slowly, in her head.

Perhaps she could act where they would not. Before it was too late.


End file.
